


I Don't Remember

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Dissociation, Gen, PTSD, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 17:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: “We didn’t talk about jeans this morning, Fred!” Roger shot back, but he shivered when he tried to remember what he did that morning. It was all blank. Blackness. What did he do this morning?Freddie huffed, punching his shoulder playfully. “Lay off the sniff, Rog,” he said as a parting joke before he went to warm out.What did I do this morning? What did I do??





	I Don't Remember

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: i have issues with losing time and lately ive been losing about every other day which is very disorienting and kind of scary. can i request some hcs of one of the boys losing time and the others helping him ?

“Roger, those pants are atrocious!” Freddie said with a laugh as Roger came out of his room in a pair of tight leopard print jeans. He was trying on possible outfits for the concert later that night and wanted some of Freddie’s input. 

Roger flashed a hazy smile, his body tingling. He turned around to give Freddie a 360 view of the pants, arms thrown up in a “Really?” gesture. Freddie nodded, saying, “Animal prints are not in style anymore, love! Those pants belong in the bin if it were up to me,”

The blond let out a tinkling laugh, spluttering out between giggles, “All right. Guess it’s true,” before padding back into his room to try on other things. 

So, one could imagine the shock Freddie had when later that night Roger emerged from his dressing room in those train wreck looking pair of pants.

“Did you change your mind on my advice?” he asked, stepping back to appreciate those monstrous jeans.

Roger’s head cocked, eyebrows knitting curiously. “What advice?” he was still fumbling with his belt.

“The jeans, Rog! From this morning!”

Roger shook his head, hoping Fred wasn’t drunk already. Starting off a show drunk was always…an experience.

“We didn’t talk about jeans this morning, Fred!” Roger shot back, but he shivered when he tried to remember what he did that morning. It was all blank. Blackness. What did he do this morning?

Freddie huffed, punching his shoulder playfully. “Lay off the sniff, Rog,” he said as a parting joke before he went to warm out.

_What did I do this morning? What did I do??_

♚ 

John made a weirded out face as he looked at Roger from across the room, who was supposed to be leaving to get himself some food, but had suddenly stopped in his tracks, facing the door but made no efforts to actually open it. 

John watched him for what felt like minutes, creeped out by how eerily still Roger was. He decided he’d try to snap Roger out of what must have been an intense day dream. He got up, walked up to Roger who didn’t seem to notice him and gently touched his shoulder. 

In a very floaty movement, Roger turned to face John, his heavy lidded eyes drooping even further, a far off smile on his face. John frowned but waved a hand in front of him, saying, “ _Hello..anybody home_?”

Roger chuckled, replying with a bit of a delay, “I’m right here, John,”

And then he left.

John worried Roger was not only high but way too high to go out and get food by himself. He didn’t have to worry for long, as Roger came back into the room some 5 minutes later, his heart thrumming, a big but forced smile on his face.

“I walked out and completely forgot what I was doing,” he said, his eyes now wide and alert, a hint of panic in them. He let out an awkward laugh.

“You were getting some lunch…”

“Oh yeah! Hah! I’m such a blond, right?” he said, turning on his heels to leave again, his body stiff.

_How could I forget?_

♚ 

“W-What do you mean we talked about this before?” Roger said as he wringed his hands. Brian stood before him, a hand on his forehead, shaking his curls in disappointment.

“We talked about this yesterday, mate. Are you gonna stand there and tell me you forgot in a matter of 24 hours?” Brian said with an angry lilt in his voice, staring at the neatly piled up papers.

He had told Roger the day before to leave the table messy. Brian had his dissertation laid out in a specific order, pages placed in a certain way so he could write out his conclusion without having to flip through pages to find what he had written before. It would only be for a few days tops. He’d clean it up himself.

But when Roger came to visit that day, Brian had only gone to take a leak for a minute and when he came back, it was all stacked up neatly on the side of the table. Hundreds of papers jumbled up without hope of getting them back to the way the were without a long struggle.

It wasn’t a big deal, but he was working on his PhD for christs sake! His every nerve radiated anxiety and stress. Could he ask for just one thing?

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” Roger said, his voice cracking. Those words were beginning to become far too familiar on his tongue. He hadn’t sat down to think about these random bursts of nothingness followed by sharp clarity as he returned to reality, in a different place, around different people, in a conversation, all of which he couldn’t remember. He was losing time. Minutes, hours and sometimes a whole day’s worth. And he had no idea why. And he didn’t even know how often it was happening. 

“Roger, I respect you too much to think of you as that dumb. Just. Shit, mate,” Brian rubbed his eyes, craving another pot of coffee. And for Roger to leave. He was probably doped up. Of course. 

Seeing the dismay on Brian’s face made the dams break in Roger’s brain. He started to cry, against his will. Months of confusion and pretending and hiding all flooded out until all he could do was shake and sob.

Brian went wide eyed, approaching Roger like he was made of glass.

“R-Rog! It’s okay! You don’t have to cry about it. I’ll survive,” he said, not even knowing what to do to soothe the other.

“’S not that. I’m forgetting things, Bri. I don’t remember when people tell me things or when stuff happens. Like my brain keeps turning off the record button or something. I don’t remember coming here yesterday, Brian. I don’t remember what happened at all yesterday!” He stuttered, blubbered and sniffled out, his hands out in front of him like a child asking their mother to pick them up. 

Brian held onto Roger tight, his chin nestled into the messy blond hair, his arms wrapped around Roger like an anchor. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but his best friend was having a meltdown of sorts and he’d be damned if he ignored him because of some silly papers.

“Roger, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you, mate. We’ll figure this out, okay? You don’t have to be alone anymore,” he whispered, his shirt growing damp from Roger’s tears. 

“What if I don’t remember this?” he whispered hoarsely, a hiccup wracking his chest.

“I’ll just remind you then,” Brian said assuredly. 

_What if I forget?_

♚ 

“You won’t forget, darling,” Freddie said as he threw Roger a water bottle. 

Roger caught it, taking a big swig of it before placing it next to his drum kit. He shook his head, drumsticks twirling through his fingers nervously. “What if we record all of this and I just forget it all? And have to keep relearning it,” he said quietly, eyes downcast.

Brian walked up next to him, guitar in hand and gave Roger’s head a reassuring pat. “Haven’t things been going well in therapy?” he asked, a little smile on his face. Roger nodded.

He thought he was losing his mind at one point. He really thought it would keep getting worse until he never remembered anything at all. Lost forever in a body on autopilot. Brian and the other’s wouldn’t allow that though. They searched far and wide for something or someone that could help. Wouldn’t you know? Suppressing years of childhood abuse didn’t mean it went away. It just came to bite you in the ass as an adult. At least, that’s what his trauma counselor said. Working with her has opened his eyes to a lot of stuff and helped him shed the stress he’d been unknowingly harboring inside of him for years. In the few months they’ve been working together, he hadn’t had an episode in weeks. It didn’t mean he wasn’t scared all the time, waiting for the next one. At least the next one wasn’t minutes away anymore.

Roger hit his drumstick down on the snare with a shrug. “Fine,” he acquiesced. They all grinned, excited to know Roger was ready to sit back down with them and keep working. 

“I forget my lines all the time, dear. Don’t stress it,” Freddie said, adjusting the mic above his piano. 

“And if you forget, it’s no big deal. There’s always tomorrow,” Brian added.

“I mess up all the time and nobody ever notices,” John said with a cheeky laugh. 

“I said fine already!” Roger said as he blushed, appreciating their love for him but finding it smothering. “Let’s get on with it before I forget from old age!”

The four snickered but proceeded with the recording session. And Roger didn’t miss a single beat.


End file.
